Moving back in with your mother as a 40-year-old single woman is not a thing to be taken lightly.
But to be honest, I really like it. Aside from a few small arguments (mostly about politics–we are…divergent in our views), I like living in a nice house with another person. I have the upstairs pretty much to myself and Mom already has a collection of international decor. I moved into a room with several Bolivian and Peruvian artifacts–compliments of my mother’s missionary childhood–and a shadow box of my preemie clothes on the wall. I have a nice big closet, a dresser that I have half filled with books, a lovely little seating area for reading, and my father’s desk fits right in a gable with a window.
I couldn’t be happier with the setup, and sometimes Mom even cooks for me! We had a good time watching the Olympics together. But if I need my space (and we both like our space) I have plenty of places to retreat.
It actually took a bit of convincing for Mom to let me move in; she’s not so sure this whole travel thing will work out. But in the end, I won her over. It was actually the death of my cat that made it a lot easier. It turns out that the neighborhood cat I had adopted at my own house was hit by a car right before I really started selling things. I miss her very much, but I’m almost grateful because I’m not sure how she would have done with all the changes my life has gone through these last few months, and I knew it would have been hard to relocate her. But gosh, I do miss her. And Mom’s 3-5 porch cats have not warmed up to me yet. They don’t know what they’re missing!
I’ve been on my own for a long time–the last time I lived with my parents was for a few months after college and that was pretty tough. I’ve had a roommate here and there, but I was worried myself about my ability to live with another person. So far, it seems to be going pretty well! As long as I can keep my mouth shut about politics, that is.
I didn’t know you were a preemie! So were Annie and Asher.